Caro advanced on me, arms out, fingers splayed. Each finger was the size of a Cuban cigar. I figured the main issue was going to be avoiding getting gripped by those hands. I counted my assets. Brains, training, speed, versus pure strength and size. Brains and speed can be overvalued, because brute force can be powerful. Training helps. I got up into a fighting crouch. Arms out just like Caro. But I had no intention of engaging in a fair fight, just needed to find a way of cheating. Caro wasn’t going to circle round and think this through, he was going to come at me all in a rush. So, I waited for the signs.

In unarmed hand-to-hand combat, you look at two things, the guy’s back leg and the place where his throat meets his chest, that little hollow spot. Back leg because it’s what he pushes off from, hollow of the throat because that’s his center mass. Both can give you a fractional advantage in knowing what the other guy is about to do.

Caro pushed off his back leg. He pushed hard, lunging at me in a grab with his right hand. I slipped in below the grab and landed my fist into his throat as hard as I could. I held my position for the follow through, then spun across his body like basketball player spinning off a pick. Ended up behind him, watching as the big guy staggered, coughed and spat. I moved in and got a pair of brutal hooks into his kidneys. The punches sounded impressive, like sledgehammers on a side of beef. But they didn’t seem to do anything.

Caro came around, glowering at me. He advanced again, slowly. I went first. Jabbed twice to his face and caught him with the second jab in the nose. He shook that off easy. I committed a straight right, which was a mistake. Because Caro was coming up with an uppercut. If that landed I’d be a goner. I switched up halfway through the punch, twisted my body in motion, so I could take the blow somewhere else. Anywhere but the chin, which would have put me out for sure. The clenched fist caught me on the chest, and raised me up in the air, flying like in free fall.